Friday, October 29, 2010

Min shoved his hands deep inside his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the biting wind. Lights flickered sporadically as ancient fluro signs zapped and fizzled weakly advertising their run down premises.

He passed the nightmarkets where tiny fish were captured and suspended in plastic bags along a wall, brightly lit for display. Rows of bedraggled birds in bamboo cages fluttered and ruffled their feathers. Min shuddered and involuntarily scratched his arms. One of his eyes began to twitch but halted as soon as another breath of icy wind hit his face.

The spicy smells of street vendors wafted about him, enticing his stomach to convince his brain to stop awhile.

The rhythmic shuffling over overly large shoes down the pavement produced a bent figure; her brown, crinkled face peering between a wooden poll. She balanced two large buckets as she walked but seeing the hungry look on Mins face, she pulled out a tiny stool and sat, relinquishing the weight of her baggage to the sidewalk either side of her. Efficiently she opened one of the pails. The burst of smell assaulted Min, his stomach responding loudly. She grinned toothlessly up at him offering his a styrofoam cup brimming with noodles. Wordlessly, she thrust bamboo sticks at him and accepted his coins.

Min closed his eyes in rapture as he slurped the noodles, hot and soft. He closed his mouth around the cup and greedily gulped at the contents. He heaved a contented sigh as he finished, his worries monetarily forgotten. Still hungry, he peered into the cup but was disappointed to see only a thin oily film laying over the broth that remained. His heart hammered as he noticed a glint of steel reflecting from the liquid.

He tensed his body and twisted, thrusting the liquid out of the cup into nothingness. He twitched and shivered, suddenly exhausted by his fugitive status. The old lady stood, frowned at him and shook her head.

Min flicked a tickle on his ear with a swipe of his hand. His eyes bulged as an animated feather boa slowly wound its way around neck. He dropped to the ground gasping, his legs kicking wildly until his body went rigid. Mins face phased from bright red to a dull sheen as the last breath left his body. The welt around his neck in crept over his face in angry red fingers as his allergic reaction to feathers spread. His face puffy and grey in death.

A slender leather clad figure dropped dramatically to the ground. Flicking its head up, it looked around and through the hooded mask, winked at the old lady. She spat on the ground and gathered her things. “You shame me. Pettiness does not make one great.”

The figure stood and strode over to the corpse and retrieved the boa and wrapped it around its neck and then scooped up the cup to examine it.

“The shame is on him. I have been hunting this offender for weeks. Always the same. Bite marks on the cup and sometimes whole chunks ripped away.

The old woman heaved her load onto her shoulders and glared at the figure. “Styrofoam cups do not need avenging, Tyron.”

“I wonder at times why the league still allow you to operate Tyron.” The old woman shook her head again and slip slopped down the pavement, searching for more hungry customers.

With a whisper of leather, Tyron leapt up the wall and scaled the heights of the city, leaving Min sprawled in the gloom, a wet noodle flaccidly protruding from his mouth; a small signature feather thrust up his nose.

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Did I mention I was in a really silly mood? Maybe its the stinky year nines I have had to endure, editing their english homework and submissions all week?

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Prompt -Include this theme in your story… In most parts of the world, Halloween is celebrated – in some form or another – this weekend. Your challenge this week is to write a horror scene ( or something horrific) using a wet noodle, a styrofoam cup and a feather.

Love the silly, I struggled a bit with the horror side, being a bit od a scaredy cat myself, i like how you twisted the theme and made it your own. Reminded me of the old 80's series 'round the twist' which is quite fitting after a day spent with stinky boys! see my contribution here http://bit.ly/bf4jFx

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Flash Fiction

This site is used to capture first drafts of Flash Fiction.

Any deemed worthy enough of a second glance will be pulled down to polish and hone to present to my editors and beta readers; and then perhaps submitted to competitions, anthology call outs or the like.

Your feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome.

My work is protected under the Creative Commons Licence. If you'd like to use it - just contact me.

Annie is author of “Reclaim” a survival guide for couples and conducts workshops with community groups along with speaking at key events on the subjects of reclaiming femininity, parenting and living the conscious, authentic life .

Annie draws on her early years growing up in the Australian Bush, her time as a classroom teacher and work in the corporate field to bring life experience to her eclectic style of workshops, writing and artwork. Having scribbled and sketched in the margins throughout school, university and in business meetings, she felt it time to bring her images and ideas to light.

She explores themes in mothering, feminism, spirituality and sharing her journey as a woman and mother in all her outlets of creativity.